


A Debt To Be Paid- A Dean X Death Smut Fanfic

by Impala69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Bottom Death, Death (Supernatural) Loves Fast Food, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fast Build, Flirty Dean Winchester, Gay, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Male Bonding, Male Slash, Porn With Plot, References to Supernatural (TV), Sexual Humor, Smut, Top Dean Winchester, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-20 11:08:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20674385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala69/pseuds/Impala69
Summary: Dean Winchester has been sadled with his fathers massive debts, if he doesnt find a solution to pay back the huge sums of money his father borrowed the bank will buy the only home hes ever known from under him. But how can he concentrate when the strangey alluring and sharp minded debt collector they sent distracts him at every turn and why is it that Dean who always knows what to say finds himself speechless in front of this tall dark stranger? Will Dean lose his heart as well as the farm? Stay tuned.





	1. A Tall Horseman

**Author's Note:**

> Hi babes this is my second fanfic ive wrote on Archive Of Our Own, I'm going for something a little different this time around and im actually going to have more plot in this story, I know its nuts. Most of the time I just write smut (dont get me wrong theres going to be unhealthy amounts of smut in this story) but yeah, Im going to give it a go. Again I really loved the whole chemistry of Death and Dean Winchester so I wanted to write more in this tiny ship. If you like this fanfic dont forget to give Kudos and comments it really makes me write more. Later babes.

Dean Winchester leaned against his house and checked his old pocket watch for the sixth time today, the letter had said around early morning is when the debt collector would be sent around. 

It was an unusually foggy morning today, the sun had barely risen they hadn’t had fog this bad since last June, the sound of a hoarse trotting made him pay attention as he looked out at the old farmstead road. 

The Winchester farm was around 60 k outside of the nearest town so anyone going down the old farmstead road only had one direction to go and that was the farm.  
He checked his watch again. 

“Heh punctual bastard isn’t he” He muttered to himself but when he looked up and he was frozen to the spot, the man that had emerged out of the fog was something else.  
He reminded Dean of an old biblical line.

“So I looked, and behold, a pale horse. And the name of him who sat on it was Death”

A tall man sat upon a hoarse darker than the blackest shade of ebony, his suit the colour of a ravens wing and wearing an old fashioned white Stetson hat that had seen better days, the hoarse whinnied in response and for a second Dean thought it sounded like a human scream and a chill ran up his spine. 

“I suppose you would have to be Dean Winchester.” His voice sounded like wheat rustling in the fields on a windy day, low, deep with a slight crackle on the end, the statement forcing Dean to look him in the eyes out of old-fashioned hospitality, but his voice did something inside of poor Dean. 

Obsidian pools of ink that likened to the crows that used to sit on top of the old barn, screeching and fighting over left over scraps, he’d had nightmares about those birds ever since he was a kid. 

Several seconds passed before he realised, he hasn’t answered.  
Pull it together, it’s only one weird guy, who likes to travel in fog so thick you can’t even see yourself, don’t freak out you big baby. He scolded himself mentally. 

“Yup that’d be me. Didn’t think you’d come on such bad weather, guessing parasites like to bleed people dry early in the morning. “

The man’s eyes narrowed finding less than ideal humour in Deans jokes. 

Dean turned around trying to shake the chill off his back, trying to convince himself its just the morning fog but something didn’t sit right with him, like displeasing this person would lead to a very bad time. 

“My bad, I meant the bank….” He turned around trying to cover up a snicker as the hoarse softly trotted after him. 

Dean Winchester had been given a letter early late September that had made him aware of the large amount of debt that his father had racked up on the old farmstead, the old bastard had also disappeared leaving the farm and the enormous amount of debt to his next closest of kin which unfortunately for him was a Mr Dean Winchester. 

In response to the lack of payment for the last 2 years they had sent a debt collector out to make sure there was no extra money being hidden from them who would live in the same household for the next couple of months monitoring him. 

A failure to pay the fine at the end of the deadline would mean the Winchester Farm would be sold and Dean knew he needed to drum up the money, losing the place he grew up in was not an option.

After Dean helped lead the hoarse to the stables and had it fed and watered he took his less than Ideal guest into the family home, the wooden doors creaked as he pushed it open and nostalgia hit him like a truck. It smelled like home, wood, sawdust the strange lingering scent of straw and whiskey. 

“Honey I’m home” He muttered. 

The walls were lined with tacky pictures of horse’s, after he his mother had fallen ill his father didn’t have the heart to move any of the strange decorations she had put in the household, they looked dusty like they hadn’t been cleaned. 

He turned around to gage the reaction of his guest only to find the man looking at the tacky picture of a hoarse covered in rhinestones, he took this opportunity to examine the lines on the man’s face. 

He had the type of face that you couldn’t tell whether he was older or younger than he seemed, a sharp gaunt feature to his cheeks that made his face look sharp and a slightly hooked nose. 

A thought came to Dean, he isn’t ugly just slightly odd looking. 

“Staring is rude.” The man didn’t even turn as he said this and as far as Dean knew the man’s eyes hadn’t left the tacky picture in front of him, Dean swallowed hard and coughed to hide his embarrassment as he turned to look away. 

“I weren’t staring” He muttered and turned away trying to gather his senses, as a soft hum of disbelief came from the man.  
“Ahem well welcome home, make yourself comfortable” He said dryly, trying to muster in as much sarcasm as he possibly could in that sentence for the intrusive stranger, trying to very much convey that he wasn’t welcome.

He turned and looked at the man who was now sitting on the couch promptly ignoring him and looking through an old newspaper clipping “in fact can I get you anything? Biscuits? Cut Of Tea? My soul while you’re at it since you’re here.”

“Well while you’re standing a cup of tea since you’re so thoughtfully insisting I take it with milk two sugars.” The man had a slight touch of mocking to his voice making Dean grit his teeth. 

“Yes sir, anything else?” He said sarcastically. 

The man rustled his newspaper and straightened it. “Yes, I suggest while you’re getting me some biscuits you drop the attitude on the way back it will curdle the milk in my tea, because I don’t suppose I’m leaving any time soon. But take your time attitude adjustments don’t come easily.

Dean growled “Why you…” 

“That’s all, thanks for that.” He didn’t even turn his head as he dismissed Dean, Dean for the first time did not have a comeback and walked himself to the kitchen dumbfounded. 

It goes without saying that the tea was made without love.


	2. Biscuits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know two chapters in one day? Its like Halloween in December. I spoil you babes. Please give comments and Kudos if you like this I was feeling very inspired today.

Dean plunked two sugars into the black tea in front of him, muttering under his breath in a mock high voice in the kitchen. “Well drop the attitude, you’ll spoil my stupid tea.”

He stopped and thought to himself now where did I put those biscuits? It’s been some time since Dean had any guest over in fact, this place had not seen another soul at least since Dean Winchester was seven years old, it made Dean wonder as he looked in the bottom cardboards as well as opening the fridge and scanning through the shelves if they even had any biscuits. 

At the corner of his eyes that’s when he seen something, the top shelf. His memory reminding him that there might be something edible in there.

His fingers skimmed the handle for the top shelf which swung open to reveal a pack of shortbread cookies just out of reach when he stood normally, he arched the back of his feet. 

He reached for the biscuits searching through the cardboards absent-mindedly, his fingers clumsily trying to feel his way towards the biscuits. “So you got a name stranger?” He called out towards the living room, standing on his tip toes and balancing quite awkwardly as he just managed to scrape the edge of the packet of biscuits on a high shelf. 

“Richards.” A deep baritone voice rumbled, the sound had surprised Dean who didn’t expect to hear the man so close, he turned his head to look at the culprit for a second taking in the man leaning against the door frame, when his fingers clipped a plate from the top shelf which slipped and went tumbling down towards his head he looked up eyes wide. 

“Fuck!” 

Everything moved so fast and Dean closed his eyes bracing himself for impact. 

“Ack!” 

Crash!

Dean Winchester had his eyes shut quite tightly he had expected a sharp pain to be hitting his forehead right now but instead he felt a warm arm wrapping around his mid-section and his back was pressed into something solid. A scent drifted to him, it smelled like old fashioned lilacs. 

His eyes shot open and he looked up at the person holding him and realised with great embarrassment that he was sprawled against none other than the debt collector, whose arms were wrapped around his midsection tightly, keeping him upright his own legs awkwardly hanging on the floor like a sack of flour . 

He saw the plate smashed on the ground and connected the dots, he swallowed dryly and looked up at the man. Mumbling something about not paying attention. A small quirk of the lips appeared on the man’s face it wasn’t a smile but as close enough as they come. “Don’t go making a habit of it then, I can’t always be here to save you from your clumsiness.”   
A deep seeded humiliation seeped into his gut, so far, he’d been humiliated twice by this man. 

“Yeah well I didn’t ask for it.” He pushing away from that surprisingly solid chest as Dean was desperately trying to regain some dignity from the whole affair and with everything in his being trying to forget the warmth seeping into his back, he dusted off his shoulders and went to walk past the man, but Richard stepped in front of him, his eyes like whirlpools as a deep annoyance seeped into them. 

“Its customary to say thank you.” He practically hissed. Dean glared at him, who was this man? That had walked into his house, asked for his biscuits and demanded to be thanked for something he caused. “Now hang on a second and you listen here.” He pointed a finger near the mans face accusingly. “I am not going to thank you for shit, you come into my house.” 

A hand slammed near Deans head as the debt collector moved closer, his chest an inch away cornering Dean between the tall dark stranger and the kitchen wall, Deans breath hitched as he looked up. 

M-move” Dean muttered quietly but the man didn’t budge an inch, he could practically feel heat pooling off the man’s body, how could he be so warm when outside was freezing?

“I don’t like rudeness Dean.” The man hissed pointedly ignoring Deans command and there it was again that sensation, an oppressive thing that crushed down on Deans chest and he was lost to those black wells of the man’s iris’s which seemed to invite him in, his mouth dryer than a stale biscuit as tensions rose between them and he managed to lick his lips nervously.

The man staring him down like a hawk watching a mouse expectantly waiting, now Dean wasn’t a coward far from it, he was called foolishly brave but something in this man said don’t test me, Dean Winchester for the very first time was quite intimidated he muttered out in a weak croaky voice “Thank you.” 

For an awful second nothing passed between them, only the rise and fall of their chests and the soft breath that washed over Dean, he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to, he was mesmerised by the lines and patterns on the man’s cheek, the dip and hollow of his collar bone and the way his chest rose and fell. 

Then as if nothing had happened the man backed away leaving Dean stupefied as he walked back towards the living room with nothing but a backwards wave and a quiet content gesture. 

“What the hell was that?” Dean muttered to himself quietly as he cleaned up the shattered glass, but his chest was still pounding like he just ran a 6 mile race hours afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont forget kudos and comments babes, till next time.


	3. Coffee Stealing Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I had like the best burst of inpsiration babes at like 2:00 am in the morning I ended up writing around 3-4,000 words tonight and instead of acting like a jackass and waiting weekly to upload them, I'd rather upload them all. So take a fun trip with this terrible coffee induced haze of stupidity that is my fanfic. Please enjoy babes dont forget to give kudos and comments because my liver at this point is like 90% coffee and 10% functional. P.s I frankly underestimated how long this story might turn out, please stick with it I promise there will be flirting and sexy time.

After their initial bad start with each other and the awkwardness that ensured with having a perfect stranger in your house, Dean Winchester was faced with a dilemma he had not faced before. He found that he could only response with two interactions, the first being to ignore the home intruder with every ounce of his being, finding reasons to avoid the infuriating man such as suddenly going to get a coffee, long drives in his car that led to him eating unhealthy amounts of take out neither of these being very good solutions but the second solution was worse, being to goad him into a fight. 

Not that anyone was counting but a solid 7 times out of 10 he found himself losing said battle of wits and banter, not that this stopped him from trying. Dean Winchester was but one thing and that was “not a quitter.”

It was early in the morning, the sun had barely risen when Dean Winchester cracked his eye open to the offending sunlight and groggily dragged himself out of bed, it was like some kind of game between the two of them. Both being workaholics that relied purely on rage and coffee the coffee maker was like a battling ground; the coffee would run out quite quickly it had only been a week since the bizarre man had arrived and yet they found themselves in constant competition with each other. 

Because of their said coffee addiction the bag of granulated coffee was low on supplies until Dean went and got more, Dean from memory knew that there was only about one cups worth of coffee left this morning and that bastard had used the last of the coffee last time and today was the day that he would beat him, the rules between them were simple the first person to make the last cup of coffee in some way had won the game for that morning.

Dean Winchester was not going to lose this morning, he had gotten a full night’s sleep and felt like he’d died and come back to life, he’d basically got up at the very crack of dawn and sweet revenge of morning coffee would be his. 

He opened his wooden door with a creek, clad in only loose-fitting shorts and a tank top the morning dampness settled on his skin as he peaked into the hallway.   
Not a man in sight, he allowed himself a moment to celebrate his victory as he carefully made his way towards the kitchen, he knew every creak every loose floorboard and every nail in the old house, determined not to wake the tyrant of a man up. 

Not this time bastard he thought to himself. 

He walked quietly manoeuvring himself through the household until he got to the kitchen it was still slightly dark outside and he went to reach the kettle, the bag of coffee in sight when a voice suddenly piped up nearly making him drop the kettle.

“I love a good cup of coffee in the morning, don’t you?”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean Winchester yelped as he spun around holding the kettle in front of him like a weapon and none other than the tyrant himself was sitting quite contently on the old family couch smugly drinking a hot cup of joe, Deans hot cup of coffee. 

The man didn’t even flinch as Dean held the offending pan out in front of him, it groggily registered to Dean that there would not be a cup of coffee left and he inwardly cursed, what was this man a damn vampire? Didn’t he need to sleep. 

His scowl alone was enough to stop traffic as Dean gave the man the dirtiest look he possibly could. 

Without even giving him a glance the man simply stated “nice shorts” but something about his tone was anything but complimentary, forcing Dean to look down and realise with sheer embarrassment that it was not a pair of shorts that he had put on but rather his embarrassing joke-of-a-Christmas-gift-from-annoying-brother bright pink Flamingo boxers. 

“Damnit!” He put the pan downwards covering his privates and hopefully trying to cover whatever was left of his pride. 

“D-don’t you look in this direction.” He said growling at the man who quite snidely added “I never do” and continued with his annoying turning of the newspaper pages as though Dean wasn’t there at all, but he quietly added when sipping his coffee “That there wasn’t much to look at.”

“Hey, I will have you know, a lot of women like this?” He said indignantly. They find it rugged and attractive even.”  
“Oh yes, I’m sure they find your Flamingo’s a riveting point of conversation.”   
Something boiled inside of Dean what was it about this man that had him losing his temper so often, he always had something cleverer and more sarcastic to say and it was getting on his last nerve especially since a very cold, insomnia and coffee-less Dean Winchester had reached his peak anger. 

He found himself doing the something quite out of character, it hardly registered to Dean what he was doing.   
His hands grasped the man’s shirt and yanked him off the couch, Deans face very much in the man’s face so close his nose was scraped the other mans. His chest heaving with exertion.  
The sound of a coffee mug shattering on the ground and tearing of a shirt material.  
“Why you son of a bi-“ 

“Crack!” Lighting flashed across the sky and Dean Winchester was stopped In his tracks, as suddenly the soft pinging of the tin roof filled the empty room, it steadily got more violent wind whipped through the open windows and sent papers scurrying in the room.

“W-what, what the fuck is that?” 

“I believe it’s called rain.” The man sarcastically seethed and momentary haze of anger Dean had cleared, all fight seeping out of him that he completely forgot he was holding the man in such a threatening way the man was looking at him as though he was waiting for him to continue his eyes blankly staring at him. 

The radio switched on and a newscast was heard.  
“Good morning citizens, this is a country issued warning please stay inside as a ginormous storm is coming your way, there will be rain, hail and gale force winds up to 7 I repeat do not leave your resident property, nail down your doors and windows and prepare for hurricane Kathy.” 

“My fucking God Bobby.” Dean said distressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont forget babes comments and kudos = prayers for my liver. fuck.


	4. Have Mercy On Us Kathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second upload of this coffee infested bullshit, enjoy my babes haha sleep is for humans not writers. If you like my terrible writing and poor life decisions to upload all my chapters at once give me some encouragement my beauts by commenting and giving kudos. Step 1 to happiness dont be a writer. (This chapter is a smaller chapter rounding about 4-422 words but the rest long-ish at 1,000 save me and my terrible Ideas to write 1,000 word chapters.)  
Again sexy time, is coming. Be patient my loves.

Dean Winchester was not thinking straight, he was scrambling to get his things the coffee incident long forgotten as he rushed about like ants in a storm.   
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He yelled as he clipped his pinkie toe on the table yet again the rain outside roaring and drowning all. Dean muttered to himself “keys, I need my keys, check.”

Dean had his Jeans hanging halfway off his ass, one arm in his top and two boots that weren’t a pair, he was a complete mess.

“Surely you’re not going out in that...” 

Rain seemed to hammer all in his wake rattling the roof like it was made of paper not solid metal tin. Dean took in the frail looking figure of the man staring at him like he was a mad man, for a second he felt nothing but bile rising in his throat. 

“You’re not from here, mind your own business we don’t let others just fucking die in these asshole storms!” Dean growled at the man, his anger simmering as he went to barge past the man ready to brave the outside.

Dean Winchester you must be fucking crazy he thought to himself. Suddenly a sinewy but strong arm grabbed his forearm making him stop suddenly, Dean growled and turned to give this asshole a piece of his mind when suddenly his mouth went dry looking into those orbs of black ink. 

The man’s eyes reflected the whirling storm outside, lighting flashed across his iris’s as he stared at Dean as though there was a storm inside rather than just the one raging outside. Dean was reminded of the first time they met, when he had mistaken the man for a bringer of death and now, he knew why. In the flickering lights the man almost seemed ethereal with his dark eyes and skinny appearance.   
“I said you’re not going out in that….” 

A shiver ran down his spine, as Dean stared at the man bewildered. 

“Not without me.” The man finished; Dean looked at the man as though he was touched in the head.

The man’s thousand-yard stare made it quite clear that he was not leaving without him, Dean quickly went through the many options in his head coming to the conclusion that bringing along this insane debt collector would be a very bad Idea, so far there was several things he could do, most of them involved rendering this lunatic unconscious.

“This is a bad Idea to bring you with me.” He said his throat drying up as he swallowed roughly hoping that the man would change his mind. 

“So, when are we leaving?” He stated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember giving kudos and comments = pitying my poor decisions in life and bringing me one step closer to sleep.


	5. Madmen Fear Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its me, your one and only insomniac my babes. This is the third upload of my cofee induced haze. Strap in, with your cup of tea and try your very best to make sense of this shit-show. Its a wild ride. This is around 800-822-ish. Remember to give Kudos and comments, for each comment/ kudo an imaginary yellow duck will be sent your way.

Rain pelted at his vision like bullets, the sky rained down on his weary body like rocks as his feet sunk into the mud underneath him, each step was like walking underwater as his shirt clung to his body like a second skin. His favourite Horse Impala whinnying in his ear.   
“Come on girl! Work with me!” He dragged at the reigns. 

At the side of his eye he saw the white Stetson bobbing ahead of him from the strange debt collector. 

Despite the horrid rain and his muscles screaming at him to stop pulling the reigns he managed to drag the poor horse towards the main road made of concrete, he tried to pull himself upright using the and the reigns he was holding but stir ups proving slippery as he kept trying to climb upright, coupled with not being able to see the task was almost impossible.

The horse was panicking thrashing like a mighty beast and scared out of its mind from the wind that howled in your ear like a banshee a flash of lightning danced across the sky and it felt like the hoarse was screaming in his ear like a demon. 

“FUCK!” The horses massive body collided with Dean sending him sprawling into the mud-soaked concrete as the horse reared in fright, the cold wet concrete soaking into his cheek bones as he groaned in pain. His face hurt; his body hurt.

Come on Dean you got to get the fuck up he growled at himself, but his body would not move. I can’t let him down. His vision blurred as something ached in his head, dots appeared in his vision. 

“I’m sorry Bobby” He mumbled as his vision started blanking. 

Darkness….

“And you call yourself a cowboy” Came a mocking tone, suddenly he was gathered off the floor and pulled against a strong warm body. 

His vision swimming but managing to look behind him even through the blinding rain he could see he was sandwiched between the black horse and the debt collector who has his arms around him holding the reign and Dean firmly upright. 

“H-hey I did not agree to this!” Dean began to protest even as his stomach heaved, as he nearly tumbled off the hoarse only to be held upright again a voice hissed in his ear.

“Shut up Dean, if you want to help your foolish Bobby then you will accept my help and you will like it!” The man growled in his ear wetly. 

Why is this jackass helping me? Deans thoughts swam through his head like goldfish in a pond, he had no choice to agree but even as he directed the man behind him and the hoarse tearing through the wild desert landscape of Arizona, he couldn’t quite shake it. 

“W-why?” He mumbled disorientated.

The man’s arms were strong around him, they felt like bars of iron and even as his head lulled back and his vision seemed to fade in and out, he could still remember that answer.

“Because I won’t let you die and you’re the type of fool to die trying.” 

The trees danced in the wind like they were those terrible wacky waving inflatable tube guys from a garage, it wasn’t normal for large strong oak trees to bend like they were silly straws in a tacky mojito. 

Dean Winchester only knew two things in this life, one was how to play a decent game of pool and the second was Bobby Singer owned the best apple farm on this side of the world made the best moonshine, knew how to cheat at cards and last of all he got blind drunk on a Sunday.

Not just normal drunk either but the type of drunk that you don’t remember your own name, but more important drunk enough that he wouldn’t hear the storm warning. Dean had been planning on getting him a new radio as a Father’s Day gift next Monday as Bobby Singer was as close to a father as Dean Winchester was ever going to get but he couldn’t do that if Bobby died!

Even with the wind screaming in his ear, he could feel the soft chest of the man underneath him, the sinew behind his body and the heartbeat which thudded dully in his chest, the man’s words bit into his ear like a ragged dog. 

“Dean? Is this the place?”

Dean cursed himself for getting distracted. 

“DEAN!” The man yelled into his ear.

Up ahead was a tiny shack, it would be a travesty to call it an Apple Farm as multiple apple trees lay ahead in their path like fallen soldiers blocking them, a tiny figure in the distance was desperately trying to close the shutters on the windows. A trucker hat on his head and a beer in one hand, it was 100% Bobby. 

“Yeah go right ahead!” He screamed hoarsely to the man behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember kudos and comments= one imaginary novely yellow duck coming to you in 3048404984 days no money back guaranteed read terms and conditions, this is a non-refundable offer. Read the fine print before accepting. The product is also not real.


	6. Great Ring Of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my babes, my beauties and my people, if youre still here I salute you because i am long gone. As you will notice in the chapter title this is called "The Great Ring Of Fire" A reference to the classic Johnny Cash song. "Ring Of Fire" Which goes something like this.   
"Love is a burnin' thing   
And it makes a fiery ring   
Bound by wild desire   
"I fell into a ring of fire."  
I suggest you check it out, because at 2-3:00am in the morning with nothing but coffee and anger to fuel me this song is the best.

The hoarse seemed to kick into gear pelting down the path towards the shack, It didn’t seem like a normal hoarse ignoring the lighting staggering across the path ahead. 

“Shriek! Crash!”

Lightning reared its ugly head downwards exploding a trees roots system the entire thing going up in a glaze of glory as it burst into flames and they were heading right towards it.   
“Oh fuck” Dean cursed.  
As the tree timbered downwards, but the hoarse was not stopping.  
“YAH!” He saw the reigns whip harder as the hoarse increased its speed.   
Yah? He thought to himself he looked behind him and saw the madness from the hoarse reflected in Richards eyes, there wasn’t a hint of fear.

“Fuck stop the hoarse you damn man-man!.” Dean growled.   
Arms tightened around him like steel beams as they pelted down the path like hell was on their tails.   
“I SAID STOP.” Dean screamed in fear a soft voice nibbled at his ear.   
“Hold on Dean.” The tree crashed in front of them the fire soaring into the air like the gates of hell themselves.   
This is how I’m going to fucking die Dean thought bitterly to himself.

The Hoarse ran towards the fire and leapt.  
For a minute it felt time stood still, the rain was silent the hoarse was silent and Dean Winchester was flying. The flame licked at his boots like snakes the wall of fire in front of him didn’t dissipate and Deans whole body felt numb. 

We’re not going to make it. Dean swallowed thickly closing his eyes waiting for the heat to consume him like hellfire, heat licked at his cheeks he felt the unforgiving numbness soak into his body...

But nothing, his eyes snapped open as the hoarse feet slammed loudly into the concrete thunderously loud in his ears at it hauled ass towards the metal shack up ahead. 

By the time they got to the shack was only when it sunk in, he turned around and grabbed Richards arms smiling gleefully, the dull ache in his head lessening as he shook the man. 

“WE’RE ALIVE! WE’RE FREAKING ALIVE DID YOU SEE THAT!?” 

A brightness shone in Richards eyes that Dean Winchester had never seen before.   
“We don’t have all day Dean.” He said scoldingly, but something exchanged between them that Dean had never experienced with something before…

Trust

“I’m too old for this shit.” Bobby Singer huffed as he was desperately yanking at the metal covers.

“BOBBY!” Bobby turned to see a man running towards him. “Dean? Dean Winchester, what the fuck are you doing out here boy?”

Dean Winchester pulled up next to Bobby pulling at the metal covers. “I came to help!” He muttered yanking roughly at the cover which refused to budge. “BOY IF you die your father is going to skin me like a damn apple!” 

“I know, but I don’t want the father who raised me to die first, you stubborn drunk so accept my damn help or tell me to fuck off!” 

Dean Winchester in that moment grew up in Bobby’s eyes and instead of a young boy who he used to play catch with was a tall young man, how could he refuse? 

“You grab that shutter over there” he muttered.

It took several hours and at the very end of it they only had one shutter left to go, Dean watched with admiration as he saw Richard yank a shutter down by himself, Richard turned and looked at Dean questioningly and Dean ducked his head nodding in approval it was a quiet thank you. The man returned it and a warm sensation bloomed in his chest.

“This crazy fucker.” Dean muttered to himself.

This moron was out here, risking his life for not one but two strangers and for the first time in his life since this man had turned up and ruined his dignity, Dean felt gratitude that he wasn’t alone. 

“DEAN WATCH OUT!” 

He looked up to see one of the metal shutters had been ripped off its hinges and was flying straight towards him.

“Oh fuck!” He yelled out loud.

“Smack!”

“Crunch!”

Silence….

Dean Winchester remembered a quote that Bobby Singer used to tell him as a kid when he was afraid of the dark. He said it was a Greek creation story, it went something like this. 

“In the beginning there was an empty…. Darkness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember Kudos and comments = Saving me from my own ring of fire (a metaphor for love) and by love I mean my terribly toxic love for coffee and little sleep.


	7. I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya babes, this is a little something from the inner emo in me that literally never left. Great song awesome band, gets me more pumped than an entire mug of black coffee. *Gasp* I know me, loving something more than cofee? Impossible? *Snorts* Check the song out its from an amazing band called "Death Cab For Cutie" The song is called my chapter title "I Will Follow You Into The Dark." Warning though it takes you on a real feel trip.   
Remember kudos and comments to save me from my own love of sad and depressing music.

“If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied  
And illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs  
If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks  
Then I'll follow you into the dark...”

The music seemed to dance in his head like mice scurrying around in the basement of his mind. I know this song Dean thought to himself in the dark attic of his mind.   
It was the song I danced to with…. with.  
He tried clawing at the cobwebs in his mind. Why couldn’t he remember? 

Her face appeared in his mind, red hair, pale skin, more freckles on her face than all the stars in the night sky he clutched to the memory of her name like it was an anchor, weighing him against the confusion in his head.   
Maddy Smith, the prettiest girl in the entire school, who’d asked a nobody like him to dance with.  
How is she doing these days I wonder…Dean thought to himself.   
But that song, it was forever out of reach, just out of grasp

“What song is this?” He croaked. Fuck is that my voice? His throat felt raw, like he had downed an entire glass of sand. 

“I Will Follow You into The Dark, by Death Cab for Cutie.” A rough voice answered. 

“Oh, so that’s what it was” Dean chuckled to himself how could he forget? That was like the key to the lock as it all came rushing back, he could cloth on his face, his throat felt raw and someone was pricking into his arm.

“BOBBY!” Dean roared as he launched upright, pain slamming into his stomach and he yelped in pain. A hand gently but firmly pushed him back onto the bed as he struggled against the intruder. “L-let go of me you bastard! Where am I! Who are you!”

“SSsssh Ssssh easy Dean…” That baritone voice…it was filled with sympathy. It took a while for it to register as it lacked its usual sarcasm and malice, he gripped onto the hand holding his shoulder and keeping him pinned to the bed. 

“Richard?”

He whispered and relief rushed to him so quickly he felt dizzy, but then he actually felt dizzy something queasy rolled into his stomach.

He sat up and turned his head, a warm hand kept him upright as he hurled whatever it was, he could, and he hoped it went into a bucket. 

Richards voice was gentle. “That’s it, let it out…Dean” The soft pat on his back was comforting as his body started to ache.   
Hysteria settled in like an unwelcome guest.

“Richard why can’t I see? Get these things of me!” He yanked and pulled at the soft cloth that seemed to bind his face desperately clawing at it. A hand soothingly pressed against his own hands. “L-let go! Get this the fuck off me now!”

The scent of lemons hit his nostril and he bucked and whimpered trying to pull his hands away from the foreign hands that held him still. “I said GET IT OFF!” A gentle hand patted his cheek stilling him as the cloth started to unfold from his head. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you Dean…you just lost some blood, too much.” Came the gentle chiding, like the cobwebs in his head soon his vision was clear, he blinked as the blurry shapes and patterns started to come into view the first thing he saw was the ugliest bunch of flowers in existence, the type his mother would have liked, extremely gaudy and very purple. 

He crinkled his nose in distaste.   
“Don’t like them? Bobby sent them; I find them rather distasteful.” Came the humorous hum from above. 

Dean looked up at the face of Richard, he had a name tag on him. “Julian?” He glared at the man. “You lied to me! You said your name was Richard! You ass-butt!” He said indignantly. The man was clad in a simple hospital shirt, but he laughed his chest rising and falling and the sound was angelic to a hospitalised Dean Winchester who stared open mouthed at this man. 

The man’s eyes didn’t stop twinkling even as he stared at Dean “Well if you can insult me you must be fine.” The man grinned, Dean was stupefied for the second time by this man  
Whose skin looked flushed with vigour and knew life. It was like Dean had never noticed him before even the lines in his face was attractive, all the pain seemed to disappear for half a second.

“Well I’m going to go talk to the doctors, they said you had a mild concussion and will be fine to leave as soon as you wake up.” Richard/Julian began.

“B-but I saw the sign it was coming towards me!” The man’s lip quirked, and Deans chest squeezed at this. Fuck what’s wrong with me? Dean clutched his chest. “You missed it.”  
Deans eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the man in front of him wondering if he wasn’t the only one with a concussion.

The man grinned. “I said you missed it, the sign flew towards you, but you fainted just narrowly missing it by an inch, any closer and it would have taken your head off. I suppose you Dean Winchester have some luck with cheating death.” The man winked and Dean felt his cheeks heat up and even when the doctors gave him pain killers and proper clothes, with Julian/ Richards arms around his shoulders and chest his head was still spinning from something incurable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember kudos and comments= Me looking at entire page of puppies and kittens to help with the downright depressing melancholy of the songs I listen to.


	8. No Rest For The Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking finally, my coffee and my wits have finally ran out. Now if you will excuse me my babes and lovely people, the fact that youve made it this far is a damn Christmas miracle. This is the last chapter of my coffee fueled madness (dont worry I havent finished writing this story yet) Im going the heck to bed. Flirting! Next chapter I super promise I just needed to set up the turn around so Dean doesnt totally hate Deaths guts. The chapter Title is for this stories sake as much as my own sake. Remember Kudos and Comments mean I wont wake up tomorrow like a zombie for my job!

Dean Winchester was bored, more bored than he had ever been in his entire life, by Doctors orders he was to be bed ridden until his body remade the necessary blood supplies.  
He’d already read the note Bobby Singer had sent him twice, it consisted mostly of variants of “you are a fucking idiot” and “who the fuck goes out in a storm?” Which was a very Bobby Singer way of saying I love you and get well soon. 

Apart from obvious boredom everything that could hurt In his body, did hurt even the things he didn’t know could hurt diffidently hurt like the bone between his toes. But even all the pain in the world could not stop the worst pain of all. 

His stomach rumbled and he groaned. 

He closed his eyes in misery and inwardly cursed his own stomach.

Something delicious wafted under his nose and he cracked an eye open in place in front of him was none other than delicious pumpkin soup with crusty crunchy looking rye bread and real unhealthy amount of sour cream just how he liked it, he had heard tinkering in the kitchen earlier on but he had never imagined this. 

“How you can eat even after that entire ordeal last night amazes me.” The tone truly riddled with mockery.

There it was again that shit-eating smug tone and Dean wondered If he cracked his head harder than he thought because he was more than glad to hear it. He looked up at the man offering the plate to him.

“A man’s got to eat, but thanks for this.” He said brightly grinning at the debt collector above him who suddenly looked puzzled by Deans change of attitude. “Forget when I said change your attitude, put it back.” The man stated quite confused raising his eyebrow. 

Dean threw his head back and laughed his whole body went into the motion and it felt good, it had been a while since these walls had heard something as wholesome as Dean Winchesters laugh and it vibrated deep in his chest. Dean had not laughed this hard since he had tied Mark Grader, (a 10th grader that had been bullying his little brother Sam’s) shoelaces together and watching him trip into a cow pat.

The man went to move away but Dean grasped his hand roughly. 

“Wait.” Dean suddenly was well and truly fixated; he could feel the rough texture of the man’s hand in his. It wasn’t smooth like Maddy Smiths hands no there was bumps and bruises a working man’s hand that didn’t come from a life of being a desk-jockey that was for sure. 

Dean gulped roughly, maybe it was the medication he’d taken recently but this firm warm hand in his felt good, it felt solid and real. He in an absent-minded gesture stroked over the rough palm of the man’s hand liking the sensation. The man’s hand in his jerked slightly as a shiver ran up Richards palm, who pulled his hand away looking quite bewildered at Deans actions. 

“Dean?” He questioned quietly and Dean saw it, a very unsure and quite fragile look seemed to pass from the man’s mask of confidence and sarcasm, Dean took in the way the mans eyes seem to bore into his ..with…something Dean hadn’t seen in a very long time…compassion.

Dean could have sobbed right there, broken down and the man probably would have comforted him, it was a strange thought. 

Dean gave him a lopsided grin.  
“No really, thank you, I heard from Bobby you dragged me in the rain to the nearest doctor, you got me to Bobby’s and took my stupid-ass on your hoarse I mean it, I do. Thank you.” He looked into the mans eyes hoping he properly conveyed all the thanks he could muster in his injured tired body.

Sinking as much thankfulness as he could in a gaze. 

The man just looked at him.

Richard.Exe has stopped working. 

For a minute Dean was deathly afraid that he had indeed broken the man in front of him.

“Hello? You in their pal? Come on talk to me?” Dean rasped as the man just stood there looking at him dumbfounded. 

“Richard?” Dean began exasperated now that the man had been staring at him for a good 10 minutes. 

“Thank you, for looking after me.” 

The man snapped out of his daze. “That’s it I’m calling the doctor.” He turned around to promptly to leave the room and Dean couldn’t help a smile crack on his face the dimples at the edges of his mouth showing as a new warmth for the strange man settled into his chest. 

“Hey Richard?” The man stopped and looked at his companion a new weariness over Deans change of personality, as though Dean was an entirely new person sitting in front of him. 

“Yes?” He said cautiously testing the water of this bizarre new side to Dean Winchester. 

“I owe you.” A squeak was all that came from the man as he heard him disappear in the next room, the ruffling of papers and the sound of a phone ringing as Dean caught a snippet of conversation. 

“Doctor you have to come quickly; this man is gravely ill!” Dean chuckled to himself but then stopped frowning, maybe I did hit my head harder than I thought I did Dean contemplated to himself because the man he had regarded as an enemy for the first couple of weeks and had actively avoided, maybe it was the drugs or lack o blood but Dean could remember the sensation of the man’s hand, a man that much to Deans surprise was beginning to look quite interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember kudos and comments= I wont be fired by my job for staying up all night to write Dean and Death Smut fanfic.

**Author's Note:**

> Dont forget Kudos and comments loves.


End file.
